ONE NIGHT ALONE
CHAPTER ONE
It had been so long since he had spent a night by
himself. He couldn't even remember a
time when he turned over in bed and there was no one at least near to him. For so long it had been Dot, who had sat
next to him and read him bed time stories and kissed him goodnight and promised
that if he was ever wakeful, she would be in the room right next door. Then she would walk out, turn out the light,
and he would close his eyes with peace in his heart. Then, it had been AndrAIa.
She had started out as a friend, listening to his silent sobbing when
the lights had gone out every night.
Then came the hugs and finally the intimate feelings, which turned her
into his guardian.
But now there was no one.
Matrix was seated on a rather uncomfortable stool on the
deck of the Mare, just watching the world go by. At the same time, his arms were crossed across his chest as he
attempted to shield himself from the cold, bleak darkenss of the night. There was not a single soul around, for everyone
had dissappeared into their bedchambers, congratulating each other on a job
well done, for that day had been an eventful one. Then they had passed by Matrix, looking at him with nothing but
sympathy in all of their eyes, but only a few spoke to him. They told him to at least attempt to sleep,
that it would be better if he just stopped worrying, and that things would be
better in the morning. He remembered
that one had said that everything happens for a reason. He never understood why any of them had said
what they did; things could not get any worse, and they didn't look like they
were getting any better. And he
resented the idea that the past few hours had happened for a reason. There was no reason for her to die; she was
innocent of anything, and she didn't deserve to have her life end at such a
young age. He, he felt as though he had
aged millions of cycles in the past few nanoseconds, and he felt like his life
was over.
He knew what they wanted to day. They wanted to tell him that it would be best if he said his
goodbyes tonight, to give her one last moment before she departed from him
forever, to make his peace with the inevitable. AndrAIa was slowly dying just below his feet, from wounds deemed
by all incurable. Part of her code was
missing, they said, and there was nothing that anyone of them could do but
wait. Then they had looked at him, and
they grew silent. Everyone then just
sort of drifted away from her flickering, lifeless body, and left the man who
loved her alone. Ever since then, no
one had spoken a word of it to him.
He sighed heavily and closed his eyes for a period of
time. There was nothing but darkness
around him, and it made him remember those occasional times throughout his life
that he had been alone. He recalled the
day his mother, whom he barely had known, had passed on to "the next system",
as some called it. No one, not even
Dot, spoke to him about it, and instead they just walked away. It had been so similar to this night that
Matrix felt like he had fallen through a hole in time. Dot had said goodnight, and she shut the
door, and he had lain there, in the darkness, staring at nothing. Tears had falled from his eyes, and he had
experienced the kind of loneliness that makes a little boy cold and harsh, and he
grew up. Or, there was the time when he
had made a cruel remark to Dot about the way she lived her life, and he had
said something about how he hated her so much, and how their parents probably
hated what they had created as well.
And she had stared at him for a moment, her eyes turning puffy and red,
her lips trembling. As the tears began
to fall from her eyes, she said a quiet goodnight and shut the door, and he had
been alone once more. Alone, forced
into the same dark room as his boundless shame. He had wanted to tear out of the darkness and clasp his sister
around the neck and tell her he was sorry, so sorry. He wanted to say to her that she was beautiful and kind, but he
couldn't. Instead, he had lain on the
bed, in the darkness, and he had grown up.
This night was kind of a combination of those nights. Someone incredibly dear to him was dying,
and his shame prevented him from going to her and telling her that he was
sorry. His jealousy, his distrust, his
frustration with the entire world had just sprung forward like the venom in a
snake. He spat and clawed and isolated
himself from the one person who was still with him. And now he was paying the price.
He sighed once more and moved his hand away from his
face. His bottom lip trembled slightly,
but he bit down hard to stop it. He
stood up abruptly, making himself dizzy, and walked over closer to the
railing. He leaned against it, and as
he dropped his head into his hands he noticed two drops of red liquid on his
fingers. One hand rose to his face
again, touching his lips. His life
liquid – he had bitten his lip so hard that he had drawn it. It almost seemed like an omen, or a message;
that there was a kind of symbolic blood on his hands. His own, but in addition the blood of the dying AndrAIa, the
blood of his burdened sister, of his idol, Bob, of all the people and all the
beings he had ever come across who had suffered and died at his hands.
He couldn't let himself think about the past right now. He had an incredible desire to slap himself
for being so weak. The past made no
difference, and what was more, he should not have been so preoccupied with the
well being of others. He was a rogue;
cast out from society, forced to make his own way in the world, with no one to
care for him and shelter him. It was
said that a weakness for others was the downfall of any fighter, for the life
of another could be used against the fighter.
'A fighter must be strong, a fighter must be strong, a
fighter must be strong…'
He kept repeating those words in his head, he even began to
say them out loud, for the tears that had been there before were
returning. He could only imagine what
AndrAIa would say to him if she knew that he was thinking these thoughts about
"true" warriors. She would frown, and
call him callous and insensitive, and she would refer to Bob: he was the
strongest warrior any of them had ever come in contact with, and at the same
time was the kindest being that they had ever known. Matrix gruffly pulled himself away from the railing and began to
walk back and forth, all over the deck of the Mare, clutching his head,
fighting the tears that refused to go away.
He was so frustrated, and so angry with himself, and at the same time he
was more exhausted than he had ever been in his life. He knew that he couldn't keep doing this; his body would
give out on him, despite all the lies he told himself about how strong he was,
and how he could fight anything at any time, and always win. But all the pacing, all the thoughts, all
the pain of the past and all of the memories that were still flooding back to
his mind were driving him insane, and his instincts told him to fight, all the
way up until the time when his eyes had finally closed, and he had finally met
the deck with a sickening crash.
His body was sprawled across the deck, and he breathed
heavily, and he writhed as he began to dream…
